So Much More
by molly22
Summary: A Rily, but still kinda Trily fanfic. 10 years after graduation, Lily and Travis are married, but there are problems. Ray owns a joke shop. And Robbie and Kim STILL can't get it together. Please review!


Title: So Much More  
  
Summary: Surprisingly, this is a Rily fanfic, although its not entirely un-Trily. Ten years after high school graduation and going their separate ways, the gang reunites. Travis and Lily are wed, with some problems. Robbie and Kim can't seem to get it together, even after ten years. And, oh yeah, Ray owns a joke shop.  
  
Author: molly22  
  
Rating: PG-13, for language and some content  
  
Pairings: Ray/Lily, a little past-tense Travis/Lily, and a smidge of Kim/Robbie  
  
Disclaimer: If I did own Ray, I tie him up in my basement and no one else could ever see him but me. He would be all mine! Ahahaha! cough But alas, I don't own Ray, Lily, Travis, Robbie, or anything RFR-related.  
  
A/N: I am an avid supporter of Ray/Lily, and I hate Trily. However, because Trily is such a humongous deal with many people, I figured I'd include a bit in my story. I am a writer of the people.  
  
FYI: Travis may seem like a bit of an a-hole in this chapter, but he's not. He's just very conflicted. I don't want to give too much away, but, while what he's doing is bad, it's sort of justifiable. Although still wrong. And he knows it. So, Travis-lovers, don't hate me, saying he wouldn't do that. Because this is fourteen years later and there's no telling WHAT anyone will be doing in the future. And, Ray-lovers/Robbie-lovers, they'll be coming up soon.

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She was beautiful, her hair a golden halo about her head. A sliver of moonlight shone through the window, illuminating her dainty nose and partially opened mouth. He watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed steadily, in and out, in and out. How he had once love to hear her breathing. How he had loved to watch her mumble something incoherent in her sleep.  
  
How he had once loved her.

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"Good morning," Lily Randall-Strong said, insincerity ringing clearly through. "Off to work?"  
  
Travis's eyes slid over to his wife, and he nodded mutely in reply.  
  
"Well," she said, the false cheer still present. "Have fun." She paused. "What time will you be home?"  
  
"Probably late," Travis said. "Papers to grade," he explained.  
  
She arched her eyebrow. This was a blatant lie, and they both seemed to know it. It only took him a short time to grade papers, with the exception being finals. However, neither said anything; Lily was looking at a cooking magazine that lay open on the white, ceramic counter, while Travis stared at his black shoes disdainfully. Finally, the pregnant silence was broken, as she said, "Oh. Okay. Have a good day."  
  
"You too." He brushed past her quickly on his way to the front door, not even looking at her. Where once, long ago, he might have kissed her on the cheek before departing, now he simply left her in speechless sullenness.  
  
Lily sighed and readjusted her ponytail in apparent dismay.

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"Any questions?" Travis asked the congregation of teenagers. He was a professor of Philosophy at the local high school, a far cry away from anything he had ever thought he would be doing. "No? Okay, you can go then. See you all Thursday."  
  
The students began filing down the rows and out the door. One girl, a student of about seventeen, stayed back, waiting for the rest of the students to leave the room. After the last of them had gone, she said, "Professor Strong, you gave me an F on my paper." She quickly dug it out of her khaki green bag and showed him.  
  
He looked at it. "Yes."  
  
She looked nervous and extremely upset. "Well, with all due respect, sir, I think you must have made some mistake. I don't get Fs. That's, like, failing."  
  
Back in the days of his youth, Travis would have quoted Buddha. In fact, even now, the words were on his lips: _'The only real failure in life is not to be true to the best one knows.'_ However, he bit the retort back and said instead, "That _is_ failing. Now, are you saying that I did not give you the grade you deserve?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Very well." He snatched the paper out her still outstretched hand and threw it hastily into his briefcase. "I'll review it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

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In a small café downtown, a woman sat in booth, checking her watch several times. The woman had a tan complexion, with wide, dark eyes, and thick black hair. There was something very exotic about her, not only in the way she looked, but also in the way she spoke. There was a lilt to her voice when she pronounced certain words, mainly anything with an "l" or an "n"-"a" combination.  
  
The woman sipped her coffee, as the waiter approached. "Anything else, Miss?" he asked.  
  
"A refill, please," she said, pushing the one-fourth full cup toward him, and he poured more coffee into her mug.  
  
Just as she took another sip, the bell above the caf's door dinged, and a tall man with disheveled dirty blonde hair and understanding eyes rushed in. He quickly spotted the woman and scooted in beside her in the booth. "Sorry I'm late," he muttered.  
  
"What took you so long?" she asked. "It's already five. We were supposed to meet at 4:15."  
  
"I know," he said. "I'm really sorry, Tabitha. But, you know, traffic."  
  
She smiled up at him and nodded. "Travis." She paused. "It's alright. I was just worried about you."  
  
"Forgive me, then?"  
  
She placed one hand over his and kissed him softly on the lips. "Of course."  
  
"Good." He grinned. "So, do you want to get out of here?"

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Travis couldn't find his other sock. Clothes were scattered all over the floor of Tabitha's apartment, and in that mess, his black sock was nowhere to be found. In his hustle to remove his clothes, he had pulled one sock (the missing one) off and had thrown it somewhere. As for the other sock, he hadn't had time to remove it.  
  
He sidled a glance at Tabitha, who was humming quietly and buttoning up her blouse. She looked happy, and he was so glad that he could make her happy. However, when he saw Tabitha so lively and at peace, he couldn't help but think of his wife, sitting at home, constantly despondent, heart clearly heavy.  
  
He hadn't meant to have an affair. He never would have thought it possible to betray Lily like that. But then, one day, he met Tabitha Livingston.

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_"Oh, Travis. Good," the principal said as he saw the young man coming down the hall towards him.  
  
"John, I was just looking for you," Travis said. "I was wondering about--" He stopped speaking suddenly as he noticed the raven-haired beauty standing behind the man.  
  
"Travis," said the graying Dean. "This is Miss Tabitha Livingston. She's a Brit Lit teacher. I was hoping you could show her around a bit?"  
  
His mouth went dry. "Sure," he croaked.  
  
"Good, good. I'll check in with you later, Miss Livingston." He nodded goodbye. "Travis, we have bowling tonight. Don't forget." With that, he retreated to his small office, leaving the two teachers behind._

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"What's wrong, honey?" Tabitha asked, concerned, as she noticed the look on Travis's face.  
  
"Nothing," he answered.  
  
She knew better. "Oh. Your wife." Tabitha could not bring herself to speak Lily's name. "You're thinking about her."  
  
Travis abandoned the search for his sock and sat on the bed next to his girlfriend. "No." He moved to touch Tabitha's hand, but she pulled it out of his reach. He sighed. "I'm just thinking about what I'm doing to her."  
  
"Maybe it's time you divorce her," Tabitha suggested hesitantly. "I mean, then we could be together. Really be together."  
  
Travis looked at her. "But we are together. We are."  
  
"No, Travis, we're not. You are married, and I am . . . I'm your mistress." She looked disgusted.  
  
"Don't say that, Tabby," he pleaded. "You are not my--you're not that. You're the woman that I am in love with."  
  
Tabitha frowned slightly and brushed her hand across his cheek. "Alright." She laughed humorlessly. "If I were smart, I would leave you. I would say that there could be no us as long as you were married."  
  
"No, Tabith--" Travis started, panic rising.  
  
"Don't worry," she interrupted. "I'm not smart, and I love you too damn much."

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"Electric bill," Lily muttered as she checked through the mail. "Cable bill. Hm, postcard from Aunt Rachel. Henry Roscoe High. Gas bi--" She backtracked. Roscoe High? She retrieved the letter from the "trash" pile, and quickly ripped it open.  
  
LILLIAN RANDALL, YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE HENRY ROSCOE HIGH SCHOOL CLASS OF 2008 TEN YEAR REUNION. FRIDAY THE 19--SUNDAY THE 21. THE BALLROOM AT THE FORRESTER HOTEL. RSVP AT (555)-555-5556 AND GET MORE INFORMATION.  
  
Lily quickly checked through the rest of the pile, and, sure enough, there was a second letter.  
  
TRAVIS STRONG, YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE HENRY ROSCOE HIGH SCHOOL CLASS OF 2008 TEN YEAR REUNION. FRIDAY THE 19--SUNDAY THE 21. THE BALLROOM AT THE FORRESTER HOTEL. . RSVP AT (555)-555-5556 AND GET MORE INFORMATION.  
  
Had it really been ten years? Ten years since she had graduated from high school? Seven years since she'd gotten married? Five years since she'd seen Robbie? Four since she'd seen Ray?  
  
Oh, she hadn't seen those two in so long. Sure, they communicated a bit. An email here or there, a call every now and then, and a Christmas card every year. But Robbie was off, busy studying to be a lawyer. And Ray and Lily had drifted apart since her wedding.  
  
Lily looked down at the two letters, realizing that she was clenching them both tightly in her fist. She attempted to smooth them out and then looked at the phone number. Did she really want to go? Did she want to see old friends and enemies? To wear a pretty dress and show her husband off? To humbly say "thanks" when complimented on her successes, although inside she was really saying "ha!"?  
  
Yes.  
  
With that thought, she picked up the telephone and dialed.

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"How was your day?" Lily asked her husband as he climbed into bed beside her.  
  
Travis was silent for a moment and then said, "Fine. Yours?"  
  
"Slow. I only finished two chapters. My goal was four."  
  
Lily was a best-selling author of a series of books about a seventeen-year-old who joimed a band just before they hit it big. He becomes the new "it boy," and has to deal with fame, groupies, drugs, and credibility. One of the most popular scenes in the first book was when Rick (the boy) refused to play one of the new, fancy guitars bought by the record company; he only played his acoustic guitar, which had been a gift from his father. When she gave interviews, many reporters asked if this guitar was based on her own. Lily would reply stiffly, "I don't own a guitar," which wasn't exactly true. Lily still had her guitar from her RFR days; she simply hadn't played it in ages.  
  
"That's too bad," Travis said blandly.  
  
"I don't think I can write this book. I'm just . . . all written out."  
  
_Buddha once said,_ _'There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt.'_ Travis held the response in. What was wrong with him? He hadn't quoted Buddha in years, and now he had nearly done it twice in one day. "Of course you can," he said.  
  
Lily sighed. "Yeah. I probably just had writer's block today, or something." She turned to him. "Oh, you can get next Friday off, can't you?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's our ten year reunion. I RSVPed just a few hours ago. I thought we'd drive down Thursday evening, stay at my parents' that night. And then Friday and Saturday we stay at the Forrester Hotel. We come home Sunday night and you're ready for class Monday," Lily said.  
  
Travis frowned. "I don't know. I mean, I think I probably--But if I can't, you can go without me, if you really want to go."  
  
Lily complained, "But don't you want to see Ray and Robbie? They're bound to be there."  
  
"Okay. I'm sure I can get the day off, as long as you promise we'll be back Monday."  
  
"Cross my heart."  
  
He looked at her, and didn't see Lily Randall-Strong, his wife, but simply Lily, his friend. "Okay. We can go." He waited a moment, then added, "Oh, and I'm gonna need some new socks."

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End of Chapter

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A/N: [dodges rotten tomato] Hey! Stop throwing fruit at me! I know, I know: "Travis would never cheat on Lily." He would if all the love had been sucked out of their marriage, and if he met someone who he genuinely loved (like Tabitha). Why doesn't he divorce her then? Maybe because she was his best friend and he hates the thought of doing that to her. Maybe because he is so used to being married to her. Maybe because he has some little grain of hope that their marriage will work out in the end (and I'm sure you Trily people do too). Maybe he still loves her.  
  
Next: Travis and Lily head home; Travis and Tabitha continue to argue over Lily; they run into Robbie; and Lily's parents are freaks with a capital "F" (although I didn't capitalize the word "freaks"...hm...)!  
  
P.S. All previews of the next chapter are subject to change.


End file.
